


Explosions

by Luna_Cantarina



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But I'm also not heartless, Death, Happy (?) Ending, Historical AU, I mean its WWI people, I promise it's good so please read!, Liam is a medic, Louis is a sniper, M/M, Somebody has to die, These tags are shit sorry, agnst, plot heavy, wwi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Cantarina/pseuds/Luna_Cantarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis," Harry whimpered, clutching his rifle close to his chest, "I'm scared."<br/>"It's alright, love," Louis said as he wrapped his arms around the younger boy's shaking body, "Nothing to be scared about."<br/>"I'm scared of dying."<br/>"No, Harry," Louis whispered fiercely, "Nobody's dying. Not today."<br/>Or a historical AU where the boys are fighting in the throws of the Great War. The boys struggle to cope with life in the trenches and the horrors of No Man's Land. Amongst the death and despair, the boys learn that even in the darkest of times, love can bloom. But it can be snuffed out just as easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first ever fanfic and I really hope you like it! I wrote and edited his myself, but if there are any good betas out there, I would love a second pair of eyes. As stated before, this is a FANFIC! i.e. This is a work of fiction using the names and personalities of real people. If for some unthinkable reason this is ever actually an issue, please do not show this to the boys or anyone associated with them.  
> Anyhow, enjoy... :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

[France, November 1914]

The sun had just begun to set when a shiny bald head peeked up from the opposite trench. The German’s eyes were wide as he peered out at No Man’s Land with a mix of wonder and fear. And he should be afraid. Not so much of No Man’s Land, but rather of the sniper’s rifle that was aimed at his forehead. It was such an easy shot, a bright speck of white against an ocean of browns and blacks. Even with the light fog that covered the trenches, the sniper could easily put a bullet between his eyes from several kilometers away. Despite that, his finger stayed loose on the trigger. This poor curious bastard wasn’t anybody important. His bare uniform meant that he couldn't have a higher rank than a private. The sniper knew no great good would come from foot soldiers dead, and after all, he wasn’t heartless.

 _Don’t be a fool,_ the sniper thought as the German began to shuffle around, _Or else I might actually have to kill you._ As if on command, the shiny head was yanked down back into his trench with a sharp shout from another within the trench. The sniper breathed a sigh of relief. Contrary to popular belief, he did not like taking another person’s life. Especially for reasons as trivial as curiosity. That poor bloke probably had a family, someone who would miss him. There was no need to shed unnecessary blood.

However, moments later, the head was back. Without hesitation, the sniper pulled the trigger. A single crack echoed through the area and the shiny head dropped back into his trench, for good. _You should have stayed down mate._

“Hey,” came a whisper from behind, “You get a kraut, Tomlinson?”

Louis didn’t respond, eyes still fixed on where the now-dead German had been standing. He willed his mind to be blank. Willed himself not to think about the man he had just killed or the family who had just lost a father. Thunder rumbled overhead as the rain began to fall. The boys at camp would be happy to get fresh bathing water. If only the rain could wash Louis’ conscience as easily. If only.

~

The rain continued on for hours. The water-logged Earth sucked in Louis’ boots as he attempted to remain vertical in his foxhole. His ghillie suit was also becoming incredibly heavy with the extra weight of the water. Louis fought the urge to flick a soaking piece of burlap out of his eyes. One movement, one wrong move, was all it took to send a bullet through his brain. Louis could personally testify that statement. And he wasn’t keen on dying today.

Louis was eager to go back to camp, back to his friends. If it was a good day, Niall might have scavenged some potatoes or Liam might have heated some water for their rinse off, and Harry… Louis allowed himself a gentle smile. Yes: get back to camp and see Harry, that sounded like a very good plan. Just then, there was a nudging at his foot. Thomas, a fellow sniper whom Louis could mildly tolerate, had crawled up beside his foxhole. “Time to head back to base.” His thick Scottish accent ringing in Louis’ ears. Louis grunted in acknowledgment. Anything to get him out of this oversized puddle.

It took them twenty minutes to crawl backward towards the base. Any sudden movements could give away their position, meaning that they were forced to drag themselves through the mud for hours on end.

By the time they reached the edge of the parapet, the team of snipers looked like living lumps of clay. The muddy terrain was brutal and unforgiving. Once, Louis had seen a postcard of France. There were rolling green hills with towering oak forests that stretched for as far as the eye could see. It had been a very misleading postcard. Louis was sure France had looked like that once, but now the luscious green fields had been dissolved into a muddy wasteland with the towering oaks burnt to a crisp, leaving nothing but their charred skeletons as remains.

“Fish.” came a voice from the pit.

Thomas stopped just ahead of him, “Chips.” He replied.

“Come on in, boys.”

Louis heaved a sigh of relief as he was pulled down into the hell hole he called home. There was an unpleasant _shlop_ as his boots made contact with the bunker floor. He quickly shrugged off his ghillie, which had been reduced to a grotesque lump of mud and grass. He made his way back to the hovel where he and the others lived, gripping his rifle in one hand and his suit in the other.

The trench passageways were narrow and Louis had to step over several snoring bodies along his way. His fellow regiment members made noncommittal grunts of acknowledgment as he passed. He returned them with a slight nod of the head. They had lost three men to enemy snipers this week. As far as they knew, snipers were cold and dangerous and deadly. Not exactly the best material for making friends.

Louis could feel himself relax when the dugout came into sight. A handful of logs lined the outer frame which cut into the wall of the trench while a simple army issue blanket served as a makeshift door. Niall had insisted on it, which had been more out of comfort than necessity. Even Louis could admit that their first night in the dugout, which had consisted of rats running over their toes and sounds of nearby shelling trickling into the shelter, had been a restless one. The “door” was implemented the next day. It made it feel just a little bit more like home.

Depositing his suit at the threshold, Louis pulled back the curtain and was greeted by the smell of boiling potatoes. Liam, accompanied by a dozing Zayn, was reading a book in the corner. Niall and Harry sat around a boiling pot with potato skins littering the floor around their feet. Louis cleared his throat, “Gentlemen, your fearless hero has returned.” Niall looked up to him before barking out a laugh as he continued to peel potatoes. Louis could see Liam roll his eyes, but not look up from his book.

Finally, Louis’ gaze rested upon Harry. He smiled at Louis with bright green eyes and dimples that had nearly stopped Louis’ heart on multiple occasions. Louis couldn’t help the tug of his lip or the fluttering of his heart. “Welcome back,” Harry murmured, “The feast is almost ready.”

“I can see that,” Louis said as he plopped down next to Harry, “What did you score for us today Niall?”

“Some of the finest _pommes de terre_ in all of France!” Niall said with a flourish, “Nothing less for my best mates in the entire world.”

“Don’t listen to his nonsense.” Liam chimed, “He swiped them from some poor old grandmother’s garden.” Zayn let out a tired snort of amusement.

A stream of gentle laughter flitted through the room. Harry peered into the pot, the steam rising in his face, “They’re about done.” Harry eyed Louis scooping a potato onto the metal plate, “Take one if you like.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Before the food could reach anyone’s mouths, their curtain was thrown open. Thomas popped his head into their space, “Hope I’m not interrupting you boys?”

Louis lowered the food from his mouth, “No Tom,” his stomach grumbled in protest, “Not at all.”

“Captain says we’re going over the top at 23:00 hours. Pass the word around.” With a prompt turn on his heel, he was gone.

A hush settled over the boys. Harry’s hand had stopped stirring and Zayn was staring at Liam, now fully awake. Liam sighed as he placed his book on the shelve and slid on his red cross armband, “That certainly puts a damper on the evening.” His eyes were a fixture of calm anxiety, “Might as well eat while we can.”

Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, Louis turned to Harry. The young boy’s face was pale and his green eyes were blown wide as saucers. “You okay?” He said, running a hand along his arm.

Harry turned and flashed him a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah, of course.”

Louis glanced around before snaking his fingers through Harry’s. “It’s going to be fine, alright.”

“I know. It’s just- I’ve never been over the top before-”

“Neither have I!”

A reluctant laugh escaped Harry’s lips, “Never in a charge. But you and Liam go over almost every day. Liam to help with the wounded and you to…” Harry’s voice trailed off, “Well, you know.”

Ignoring the discomfort in Harry’s voice, Louis continued, “And we always come back, yes?”

“Yes, but…” Harry’s fingers tightened around Louis’, “You don’t know how terrified I am that one day you won’t. I mean, for God’s sake Louis, we lost three men to snipers this week, _inside_ the parapet! Out in No Man’s Land you’re no better protected than a sitting duck, and I-”

Louis stopped his words with a kiss. Harry took in a surprised breath, but his eyes closed as he melted into Louis’ lips. It was a chaste kiss, lasted no more than a second. Still, when he pulled away Louis could swear he still felt Harry’s warmth on his lips.

Louis let his forehead rest on Harry’s and their breaths mix together, “Listen to me, love. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

Harry’s nose brushed Louis’ as he nodded, “Alright.”

“I love you, you know.”

“I love you too, Louis”

Pressing one last peck on Harry’s lips, Louis pulled back. “So let’s not let this delicious meal go to waste, yes?” Harry nodded, their fingers still intertwined.

~

The sky was pitch black as the soldiers lined up beside the parapet. Louis reached down to readjust his puttees. Water from the recent rain pooled around their ankles mixing with the layers  of mud on the ground. No need to encourage trench foot. That is if he survived long enough to get it. Liam stood beside the other medics near the back. Louis, Zayn, Harry, and Niall were all positioned several rows in front of them. Niall was fiddling with his equipment, energy radiating from his body. Zayn stood with his usual impassiveness that only Liam seemed to be able to understand. Harry on the other hand…

His long limbs were hanging idly by his sides. Even from his side, Louis could see the uneven rise and fall of Harry’s chest, “Harry, now’s not the best time for hyperventilating, love.” A hasty nod of the head was the only response Louis got. Taking note of the way Harry gripped his gun, with his knuckles turning white from his touch, Louis discretely slipped his fingers into the underside of Harry’s sleeve. He gently massaged circles into the back of Harry’s hand and he could see a slight relief of tension from the younger boy’s shoulders.

“One minute!”

Harry took in a harsh breath. The Lieutenant's command echoed down the line of soldiers till it faded into the whispers. Beads of condensation began to roll down Harry’s face, now sheet white.

“Babe?”

No response.

“Harry, please breathe love.”

Harry shook his head.

“Fix bayonets!” There was a clamour as metal clanked against metal as the soldiers strapped the bayonets to their rifles. It was a sound that would haunt Louis for years. Louis’ heart rate sped up ten-fold. Taking a deep breath, Louis focused himself back on Harry. It would do him no favours to go rushing into No Man’s Land in a blind panic. In fact, it was a sure way to get yourself killed. And Harry wasn’t going to die today, not while Louis living on this earth.

Louis’ bayonet latched on with a sharp click. Meanwhile, Harry fumbled with his blade, hands shaking hard. Casting his own rifle aside, Louis grabbed Harry’s gun and began to secure his bayonet.

“Harry, love, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re scared, I’m scared too. But we need to keep our heads on, yeah? If we play our cards right, all five of us will be huddled around a fire tomorrow freezing our arses off as usual. But we have to be smart. Keep your head down, no heroics, and I’m always by your side. Okay? And remember-”

“I love you.”

Louis looked up at Harry. His green eyes shown bright against the darkened sky. A clarity showed throughout his face as a calm settled over him.

“I love you, too.” Harry continued as he took his rifle from Louis, “We’ll be okay, as long as we’re together, right?”

“Right.”

“Front rank, about turn!”

The team of soldiers turned to face the mud walls. A pair of rotting wooden steps led the way into No Man’s Land. There was heavy breathing all around them. An occasional sniffling of tears could be heard about the ranks. Some of these soldiers were mere boys. And some of them were going to die today.

But not Louis or Zayn or Liam or Niall or Harry.

“Ready?” He asked one last time, blue and green eyes locking.

No, especially not Harry.

“Ready.”

The whistle sounded.

* * *

 

[August 4, 1914, England]

 

The rabbit twitched its nose as it crept carefully through the forest. A twig snapped under his furry brown foot, making him jump. Once he realised that it was just a stick, the rabbit continued his search food his dinner. He sniffed the ground when a sudden sweet scent caught his attention. Just up ahead a bright orange carrot sat in the middle of the field. With an excited hop, the rabbit pounced on the vegetable and began to nibble in delight. Fortunately, it only got a few bites before a bullet went whizzing through his eye.

Louis watched from behind a bush as the rabbit went limp. He grunted as he got up from his hiding spot, cracking his sore back as he made his way over to the rabbit. The carrot was completely useless as bait now that it was covered in bite marks and blood. But Louis wasn’t too worried; it had been a good day for hunting Louis recalled as he flung the lifeless rabbit into a pile with four others. These furs would fetch him a nice price at market.

Louis hoisted his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the pile of rabbits as he made his way to the town square. I was only about a ten-minute hike before the bustling of the town came into view. Men of all trades loitered about the street and women pulled their children along, so as not to get lost in the crowd. Louis made his usual route past the cobblers and the bakery towards the tanner at the edge of town. He and Louis had been doing business since he was old enough to shoot. In fact, this was where he sold his first rabbit. His dad had brought him in that day to teach him the art of bargaining. But that was a long time ago.

“Emile.”

“Louis, what have you got for me today.”

“Four hares. Fresh as they come.”

“Now, now Louis. What do I want with four hares? If I was having a party, sure! But I am not, so I don’t want that many.”

Louis rolled his eyes, having played his game many times before, “C’mon Emile. The fur will make excellent gloves in the winter and I’ve seen you eat four helpings of Mary’s hare and carrot stew in one sitting. So what do you say?”

Emile placed a hand on his chin, pretending to mull it over, “Fine. But only because you are a close, personal friend. I’ll give you ten for the lot.”

“Thirty.”

“Louis!” Emilie exclaimed with his usual flourish, “Are you out of your mind? I will go up to fifteen and that is my final offer.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Louis…”

“Twenty and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“You run a hard bargain boy.”

“Pleasure doing business with you Emile, I’ll see you next week. And tell Mary to send any extra stew our way!”

“You know she always does. Until then Louis!”

“Oh! Stanley what a pleasant surprise. It’s not often I see you in here.”

Louis handed over four of the five rabbits while Emile bitterly dug into his purse. Louis was feeling rather smug about the lump of change in his hand until the doorbell chimed as someone else walked into the shop.

Emile looked up and smiled past Louis, “Oh! Stanley, what a pleasant surprise. It’s not often I see you in here.”

Louis turned to see his friend Stan standing in the doorway. Stan threw a quick smile Emile’s way before returning his attention to Louis. Immediately, Louis could tell something was wrong. Stan dark brown hair was stuck to his forehead and he was taking deep laboured breaths.

“Stan, what’s the trouble?”

His response was the last thing Louis expected to hear: “War.”

Louis did a double take, “What?”

“It’s true, c’mon.” Stan wheezed, ushering Louis out the door. Stan lead them out onto the street and into the town square. Louis was surprised to find that nearly the entire town was gathered there. Their attention was firmly fixed on a tiny man on a motorcycle. He had a great sweeping mustache and he seemed to be perspiring greatly.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “War!”

The gravity of the word sent chills through Louis’s spine. All he could do was stare along with the rest of the town as the messenger took another breath, “War! We are at war with Germany!”

The entire crowd was silent, save from the rumbling of the motorcycle's engine. The messenger waited for a beat to make sure the information had sunk in. Then he swung himself onto his bike and kicked it into gear. The shocked crowd could do nothing but watch as the man rode away, on his way to turn more lives upside down.

It took several moments for people to come back to their senses. One at a time, people began to wake from their haze. Some gathered in small groups and whispered amongst themselves. _Those power-hungry Germans! I’m telling you, it won’t last a month! It’s all part of that Kaiser’s plans. No, no, no, it will be over by Christmas._ Others simply walked around aimlessly, not quite knowing what to do with this information.

Louis was closer to that end of the spectrum. He stood there, still staring at the spot where the message had been, with a dead rabbit still firmly clutched in his hand.

“Are you okay?”

Louis jumped at the sound of Stan’s voice. To be completely honest, he had forgotten he was even there, “Yeah.” he managed to choke out, “I need to get home.”

Stan nodded in understanding, “You want to take my bike?” he asked, eyeing Louis’ rifle and the dead rabbit.

“If you could spare it that’d be brilliant.”

“Of course, anything for my best mate.”

A little thought was nagging at him as Louis began to pedal away. “And Stan,” he called back to his friend, “You’d look after them for me, right?”

Stan looked back at him with a rueful shake of the head, “Louis, she would kill you and you know it.”

“I’m eighteen, Stan. She doesn’t have much of a say anymore, now does she?” the words stung as soon as Louis said them, but it was true. He couldn’t stay at home forever. “But you’d look after them, right?”

Stan nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Alright then, mate. I’ll see you when.” They gave each other a full-armed hug which seemed to hold an unnatural finality.

“Until then, Lou.”

They gave each other one last wave before Louis pedaled away. War had been brewing for months, ever since that fancy aristocrat got himself shot in Austria last month. Still, everyone was convinced it would blow over eventually. If Britain got into a war every time some foreign aristocrat got killed, they wouldn’t know the meaning of peace. Still, this whole business was troubling… Louis pushed the thoughts out of his head as his ramshackle farm came into sight. He picked up his speed as he noticed the setting sun, the girls must be hungry. When he finally made it to the edge of the property, Louis was out of breath. In the distance, he could see Lottie up in the hayloft rolling out bales for the horse. The roof dipped slightly at the center so that she could barely stand up straight and the outside was in desperate need of a fresh layer of paint. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

“Louis!” Came a shout from the porch. Fizzy ran towards her big brother gathering her skirt so it wouldn’t drag through the dirt. Hearing her younger sister, Lottie popped her head out the barn window. She waved her hands to Louis all while grinning madly. Louis smiled, there were nothing like his little sisters to brighten his mood. The porch door swung open to reveal his mother and the younger twins attached at her skirts.

Louis met Fizzy halfway to the porch where she latched onto his leg. He hobbled over to his mother with Fizzy still in tow, “Hi Mum,” he greeted her with a kiss and handed her the rabbit. Johanna was a very lovely lady, even though years of hard work had etched permanent lines into her face, her smile still shone brightly in the summer day. Tucking a loose strand of hair back into its tie, she detached herself from Daisy and Phoebe and took the rabbit in for cleaning.

By that time, Lottie had made her way over from the barn and proceeded to launch herself at Louis. Louis grunted at the weight of a combined Fizzy and Lottie on his body.

“Get off me you heathens!” The girls giggled and tightened their grip on him. Daisy and Pheobe, the budding little devils they were, decided to join their elder sisters. When their mother returned to the porch, Louis was struggling to keep his balance as four littles girls hung from his every limb.

“You girls get off your poor brother!” She scolded, “He has work to help me with. Lottie, finish up with the hay. Fizzy, go take the girls to wash up at the well. Supper will be ready in an hour or so.” Reluctantly, the girls removed themselves from Louis, who flashed his mother an appreciative smile. The wooden steps creaked as he followed her into the kitchen, the creaking door closed behind them.

A pot was boiling on the stove and the rabbit pelt was drying by the window, it would make for a good pair of mittens later. “Thank you for the rabbit, my dear boy.” She said, planting a kiss on his forehead before returning to the stove. “The girls threatened to run away if we had porridge for supper again.”

“They will live,”  Louis said with a laugh.

“You try convincing them of that. And I want you to know, Louis, that you don’t have to hunt as much as you do. I know it’s not the most pleasant thing in the world.”

“Mum, believe it or not, I do actually enjoy hunting.”

Johanna shuddered, “You get that from your father, not me.”

Louis couldn’t argue with that. However, this was not the time to be discussing his hunting habits. “Mum, do you remember that Archduke and his wife that were killed a couple months ago?”

“Yes, of course. In Sarajevo wasn’t it?” She said, still stirring the pot, “The wife was pregnant, you know. Such terrible, terrible business.”

“Yes, well… Mum, we’re at war with Germany.”

Johanna whipped around, ladle falling to this floor with a long bang. Her eyes were wide and slightly frantic. “Louis William Tomlinson, don’t you dare.”

“But Mum-”

“No Louis. Absolutely not.” Johanna said as she darted out of the kitchen and into the adjourning room.

Louis popped up from his seat, having been expecting the chase. Louis swung into the next room to see his mother fully immersed in arranging the freshly washed linens, “The army can pay up to five shillings a day. A day! The mill only pays three a week.”

Johanna continued to fold the laundry, arms jerking in sharp, shaky movements, “I am not going to let you go marching off to your death for five shillings!”

“Mum you are being unreasonable. We can’t keep doing this! After Dad died, his army gratuity helped for a little bit, but even that’s run out. We can’t pay off these loans with only five shillings a week. We’re going to lose the farm if we don’t do something!”

They both stood there in the kitchen saying nothing. Johanna looked stunned. Finally, her face twisted in pain, “I swear, you are just like your father! What is this obsession you both have with death?”

“Mum?” Both Louis and Johanna jumped at the small voice behind them. Lottie’s little blonde head poked into the kitchen from the porch door. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine dear.” Johanna quickly crossed the room to envelop her into a hug.

“Is Louis going somewhere?”

Johanna turned to fix her hard blue eyes upon Louis, “No dear, he isn’t.”

~

It was half past midnight when Louis crept out the door. He was careful not to step on the boards that creaked, even in the dark. When he swung open the door, Louis was momentarily blighted by the moonlight that flooded the field. He was lucky for the light of the full moon to guide his way.

Squaring his shoulders, Louis took a deep breath and- “Going somewhere?”

Louis nearly tripped over himself in surprise, “Lottie!” He whispered. Lottie stood against the doorframe in her nightgown, bare feet tapping against the porch.

“Louis, where are you going?”

“For God’s sake Lottie, keep your voice down!”

“Why? Will it wake Mum?” Louis desperately shushed her. Louis scowled at his little sister, who held a look of smug satisfaction on her face. “Now, let’s try this again: where are you going?”

Lottie’s blue eyes locked with his, and Louis knew that all attempts at lying were futile. Taking a shaky breath Louis told her the truth, “To enlist.”

“I figured as much,” Lottie said, not missing a beat. Louis let out a quiet chuckle, his sister was far too perceptive for her own good. She gave him a small smile, “Just promise me that you’ll be safe, wherever you go.”

“I will Lottie, now come here.” He held his arms out to her and it didn’t take more than a moment for her to run into his arms. Even at nineteen, Louis stood barely a head taller than his twelve-year-old sister. They stayed there for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms, both sensing that it would be a while before they saw each other again.

Lottie was the first to pull away and Louis tried not to notice the tears in her eyes. “Hey,” he said, wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I want you to have something before I go.” Carefully, Louis swung the rifle off his back to handed to Lottie.

She stared at him with unbridled disbelief, “But that’s Dad’s gun. He left that to you.”

“And now I’m leaving it to you. Hide it from Mum, she’d have my head if she knew about this. And Stan can help you with your lessons. Dad taught us together.” Lottie nodded in response, tears streaming down her face, “I really have to go now, love. Be a good lass for Mum and the others.”

He turned to go, but before he had even left the porch a strangled voice called him back, “Lou, you’ll come back, right?” And in that moment, with her hands wrapped around the rifle, pajamas and tear stained face illuminated by the moonlight, Louis knew he couldn’t have been prouder of his little sister.

“Of course. And I’ll write to you as often as I can.”

“I love you, Lou.”

“Love you too Lots.”

And with one last wave, he walked into the moonlit night and was gone.

 ~

When he arrived at the recruiting office, at approximately two in the morning, Louis was shocked to find that it already was filled with young men. Most of them were dozing on benches, but the scarce few who were awake welcomed Louis into the queue. Before long, the sun began to rise and the office became even more congested with people. It seemed like every boy and his brother within thirty miles had come to the same office.

While he waited, Louis kept expecting his mother to burst through the crowd raising hell and drag him back to the farm by his ear. Somewhat to his surprise, his mother was nowhere to be seen. She must have noticed that he was gone by now. Maybe Lottie had talked some reason into her or maybe she just didn’t care. He was nineteen after all. Still… Louis had conflicting feelings about that.

When it finally came to his turn, he pushed the thoughts of his mother aside and the recruitment officer into the examination room. There they checked his breathing and heart rate, measured his chest and made him run a few laps. Overall it was menial work, and in less than an hour, he was Private Louis Tomlinson of the British Fourth Army, III Corps, 34th Division, 102nd Brigade and 23rd Battalion.

Armed with nothing but his new haversack, Louis, and the others were seated on a train bound for Clipstone. The training camp was only about 60 kilometers from Doncaster, but it still gave Louis’ stomach a twist of excitement to watch the familiar village fade into the distance. The village buildings were replaced by tall, overarching trees and they made their way through the countryside. Louis would have been lying if he had said he was sad to be gone. In all his life, he’d traveled outside of Doncaster only twice. He wanted to see the world, and now was a good a time as any. The war would be over by Christmas, everyone knew it. The way Louis saw it, let the higher-ups have their shit fit, he would just tag along for the ride.

It only took about an hour for the train pull into Clipstone station where all the new recruits were shuffled off the platform. They were herded down the road to a box-like building in the middle of an open field. A faded sign labeled it as the Clipstone Library. Apparently, it was the Clipstone Training Facility now. White tents dotted the area surrounding the building and a clamour could be heard as the new recruits approached.

Men started streaming out of their tents and rushing towards the road. There were whoops and whistles along with the occasional, “Welcome boys!” Soon, Louis and the others were engulfed by arms of men and boys they didn’t know. Some bloke was ruffling Louis’ hair while another clapped him on the back, “Welcome to the war mate!” Louis couldn’t help but grin, for once he felt like he belonged.

~

Once the chaos had subsided, the new recruits began to break off from the rest of the group. They went off in search of tents that they would call home for the next few months. Louis wandered the grounds for a few minutes before he settled on one tent at the edge of the group. Not too noisy or smelly, and their area looked clean enough. Louis cautiously poked his head in, deciding there was no polite way to request entrance to a tent. He was greeted by two curious pairs of eyes. Two boys, who couldn’t have been much other than himself, sat on adjacent makeshift cots. Both were looking up at him, open books still in their hand. One boy with large caramel eyes offered him a soft smile. The other opted to give Louis a quick once over with his exotic eyes and return his perfectly sculpted face to his book.

“Can we help you with something?” Caramel Eyes asked.

“Erm, just curious as to if you had any room for a lost little lamb like myself?”

Caramel Eyes laughed, “Our tent is always welcome to new recruits. So long as you aren’t a dick, of course.”

Louis sighed as he cast a glance towards his crotch, “No dicks here, unfortunately.” Caramel Eyes cackled again and even the Moody Beauty cracked a smile.

“Okay, I like you. Make yourself comfortable.”

So Louis did. A couple hours later and Louis had decided that Liam - Caramel Eyes - and Zayn - Moody Beauty - were good people to share a tent with. Louis was surprised to find that he was older than the both of them, albeit not much. Liam, he learned, was from Wolverhampton and Zayn hailed from Bradford. Both were quiet, extremely intelligent, and very close. Very, very close, Louis noted. They chatted for several hours before the supper-bell rang. Liam and Zayn showed him to the mess hall where several hundred men were anxiously awaiting their meals.

Liam eyed Louis curiously as Louis gaped at his plate, “You okay mate?”

“There’s so much food!” Louis managed to sputter.

“Did you not eat in Doncaster?” Zayn asked, absent-mindedly stabbing at his food with his fork.

“We ate, just not very well.” Louis admitted. The plate was full of steamed green vegetables, mash with butter, and a small loaf of golden glazed bread. Louis was surprised he hadn’t started to drool. It was torturous, staring at the warm beckoning meal while waiting for their senior officers to get settled. Louis’ hand still hurt from where Liam had slapped it away when Louis had tried to sneak a bite from his plate. Of course, when Zayn took a mouthful of mash Liam didn’t say anything. Louis had half a mind to tell him that playing favourites wasn’t nice.

When the officers finally sat their happy arses at the table, Louis began to shovel food into his mouth. And - _Dear God_ \- it might have been the best thing he’d ever tasted. As he ate, one of the vegetables went down the wrong way, causing Louis to start hacking.

“Don’t choke there mate,” Liam said with a slap on the back.

“Yeah, there’s enough death around as it is,” Zayn said bitterly, picking up his food tray and heading back to the queue for seconds. Louis raised an eyebrow. Yes, Zayn was the moodiest of their trio, but he seemed to be especially distraught today. Honestly, how does one get from steamed vegetables to death and despair?

“What’s his deal?” Louis whispered when Zayn was out of hearing range.

Liam shrugged, eyes not leaving his own steamed vegetables in front of him, “Dunno. I guess he just doesn’t want to be here.”

"Eh," Louis huffed, taking a quick glance around the mess hall, "It's not Buckingham Palace, but I've certainly been in worse."

"No, not that," Liam grumbled, setting his fork down fitfully and glancing back to make sure that Zayn wasn't in earshot, "I meant _here_. In the war."

Okay, now that was just ridiculous. “Why the hell not? It’s exciting! An adventure! We’re going to be heroes! I can see it now- Louis Tomlinson: The Eagle-Eye of Doncaster. They'll be having parades in my honour, just you wait.”

Liam chuckled, "As lovely as that sounds, mate," got a far off look on his face when he spoke, “I don’t think Zayn wants to be a hero.”

Louis tossed his fork to his side in frustration. Right, because apparently this conversation was now dedicated to Zayn's needs and mental health, “Then what on earth does he want? I'd love to know.”

“There's no need to be snippy. And besides," Liam mumbled, "I think it’s more of a matter of what he doesn’t want.” 

Now Louis was really confused, “What in the bloody hell does that mean?”

Liam heaved an exasperated sigh, his eyebrow furrowing upon his brow, “I… I don’t think he wants to hurt anyone.”

There was a pause and Louis fought to keep his tone neutral, “Really? That’s his issue? Wouldn't have pegged him for a pacifist.”

Liam shot him a stern look, “It’s a legitimate concern, Louis.”

“God, not you too."

"Louis."

"Everyone knows that pacifists are just a bunch of cowards who hide behind their religion."

Suddenly, Liam slammed his hand on the table, making both Louis and his dinner jump an inch out of their seats. Liam's usually cheery face was pressed into a deep scowl and his eyes burned with ire. When he spoke, Louis suppressed the urge to flee, “Louis Tomlinson. While I enjoy your company very much, I would suggest that you stop talking unless you want to have a blackened eye." Louis nodded quickly and Liam's face softened just a bit. "Taking a life… It weighs on your conscience, it’s a burden you have to carry with you throughout your entire life.”

A shaky smile returned to Liam's face as Zayn returned to the table, a full tray of food in hand. Louis made a mental note never to insult Zayn in front of Liam ever again, “If you say so, Li. But the war will probably be over before we even get out of training. You shouldn’t take everything so seriously.”

Liam didn’t say anything at first, he just sat there eying Louis warily. When he finally spoke, there was ice in his voice, “Of course.”


	2. II

[France, November 1914]

The whistle sounded.

The entire line of men leaped over the ridge with a scream. Their voices surged together to create one massive, primal battle cry and it chilled Louis to the bone. Bodies scrambled over the muddy banks of No Man’s Land with their rifles pointed forward, still screaming. The ground shook as artillery came hurtling towards them. Bits of earth cascaded around them as they ran with all their speed towards the oncoming fire.

His boots trampled over bits of barbed wire and shell casings as Louis squinted through the smoke. He could feel Harry’s breath on the back of his neck as the younger boy followed behind him. He didn’t dare turn back to look him. The few trees that still surrounded the area were on fire. Their flames licked out towards the boys as they surged past. But the flames were least of their worries. The rattle of the machine guns echoed all around them.  _Rat-ta-tat-tat. Rat-ta-tat-tat._  

If there really was a hell, Louis imagined this is what it would be like. 

There was a bright flash to Louis' right before - _Boom!_ The explosion sent Louis flying forward into a pool of what he hoped was mud. He landed with a resounding splash, and milliseconds later, Harry came crashing on top of him. Louis scrambled to upright himself, mud smearing the front of his uniform as his boots slipped on the slick ground. Frantically reaching for Harry's arm, Louis dragged the other boy behind him.

When Louis glanced back, he saw there was a gaping hole where the landmine had gone off and several soldiers were writhing in pain by its edges. A medic knelt beside side them, administering gauze and morphine as fast as he could. It very well could have been Liam, but the smoke and the shifting ground made it difficult to tell.

Finally, he spotted Niall taking cover behind a makeshift barricade. “I was wondering when you boys were going to join the party!” Niall shouted over explosions. His face was already covered in grime and there was a bright red streak of blood across his cheek.

“We got held up,” Louis yelled over the scream of an incoming shell. It exploded a moment later, sending a hard tremor through the ground in the process.

“Landmine,” Harry interjected.

Suddenly, a shell exploded from behind the barrier. A wave of dirt and debris crashed over them. Louis could feel his helmet slide off his head, but his ears were ringing too much to notice anything else.

“Tsk. Those lil’ fuckers are nasty. The whole field ahead ‘s littered with ‘em.” Niall said, “Speaking of fuckers, there’s a bunker with a machine gun up there was fucking murd’ring us. Lou, if you would please.”

“Of course,” Louis said as he quickly readjusted his scope. He found a small hole in their metal barrier. Three men gathered around the machine gun, one feeding the clip into the barrel and two others by his side.

Louis took a deep breath and bit his lip, ignoring the roughness of the dirt that coated it. He blocked out the sound of the ensuing battle and looked through his scope. Three men gathered around the machine gun, one feeding the clip into the barrel and two others by his side. The man who was feeding the ammunition had a thin mustache, sweaty brows, and three stripes on his shoulder. A captain. Louis aimed just below his mustache and pulled the trigger. A clean red hole then appeared on the man’s forehead just before he slumped over the gun. Louis made quick work of the other two non-commissioned soldiers with two bullets in the chest.

Louis sighed as he put down his rifle. He flashed Niall a thumbs up who responded with a nod. Before any of them could move, a small metal object plopped down between their legs.

Niall’s eyes widened in sheer terror, “Grenade!”

In one swift motion, Harry leaped out from beside Louis, grabbed the grenade, and flung it to his right. The grenade had barely touched the ground several feet away when it exploded, shooting dirt and shrapnel over the land. The three boys ducked just in time for the deadly metal to miss them. Louis, being closest to the blast, felt his helmet fly off his head and a sharp ringing in his ear.

Harry, too, had lost his helmet and his curls were hanging loosely around his face. Niall was yelling something Louis couldn’t hear, and judging from Harry’s bewildered expression, he couldn’t understand Niall either.

Slowly, the sound began to return to his ears.

“-kay? -are okay? Louis, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you, you bloody oaf.” Louis reflexively put a hand to his ear in an attempt to block out the noise. When he drew it back, there was blood on his fingertips.

Harry scrambled over to Louis’ side, “Are you alright?” His fingers brushed along the side of Louis’ cheek. The touch might have comforted him if another blast hadn’t rocked the Earth.

“Am I alright? You bloody git! I said no heroics!”

“Well, I couldn’t very well have let get blown up, now could I?”

“God, I love you,” Louis whispered and, despite the chaos, Harry’s lips quirked in a tiny grin, “We need to move from here.”

Harry nodded in grim agreement, the smile quickly falling from his face. Louis sprinted off to his left, Harry and Niall following in tow. He was vaguely aware of Niall madly cackling somewhere to his left. And Louis’ mother thought he had an obsession with death. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to Niall.

“Over here!” Niall called, waving them over to a crater shell. Niall jumped in first, with Louis and Harry following close behind him. Water sloshed around their feet as they squeezed together in the tiny hole. By now, they could not have been fifty meters from the German trenches.

The three of them took a rare moment to breathe. It lasted no more than five seconds. Staying one spot was a death wish: They had to move. Niall looked about ready to leap over the edge of the pit when Louis extended an arm to stop him. Niall gave him an incredulous look, but Louis merely grabbed his helmet and placed it atop his rifle. Louis’ helmet peaked over the edge of their foxhole and a bullet immediately sent it flying to the ground.

“Snipers.”

Harry looked up, amazed, “How’d you know?”

Louis picked up his helmet and shrugged, “It’s what I would do.” Louis had barely fastened his strap before another shell whizzed their left. It screamed as it descended to the earth. There were shouts of soldiers who realized they were in its path. Another boom echoed across the field as the shell exploded.

“So, I guess we’ll just wait here then.”

“Not likely, mate. ‘Less you feel you feel like being shelled to death”

Suddenly, another body jumped into their hole.

“Well, look who bothered to show up!”

Zayn wiped a lock of hair from his forehead before looking at his mates, “If you’re going to be a dick,” he wheezed, “Then I can just take this someone who actually cares.”

Niall cast a curious glance at Zayn. With a mischievous grin, Zayn opened the shoulder bag he was carrying. Disassembled into three pieces was stokes mortar.

“God bless ya, you fucker!” Niall screamed. He planted a sloppy kiss on Zayn’s cheek, inadvertently knocking their helmets together. Together they quickly assembled the mortar while Louis and Harry sorted through the mortar shells. The mortar pieces snapped together in seconds, just as Harry offered Niall the first shell. Niall cupped his hand around his mouth just before he released the shell.

“Fire!”

There was a fuwmp as the shell flew out of the barrel. About three seconds later, there was a large crash as the mortar hit the inside of the German trench. A cloud of dust fluttered across the field accompanied by the screams of wounded soldiers. Louis swallowed, his mouth gritty and dry with dirt.

“Fire!” Niall cried again as he ducked once more into the dirt. The shell flew true, hitting the other side of the trench a couple meters away. Carnage flew into the air as the shell exploded from within the parapet wall.

“One more!” Louis yelled over the noise, “Then we go over!”

Niall nodded as Zayn reset the mortar. By now, a small group of soldiers had gathered in adjacent ditches. Most of them were young privates just like Louis. When the last shell landed in the German trenches, the young boys looked towards Louis, waiting for his signal.

Louis took a shaky breath before he raised his voice above the noise, “Ready!” There was a clamouring of rifles and boots as the soldiers lined themselves up against their barricades. Louis felt his gut sink. He was preparing to lead these men in their second charge today. Some of them would die. The thought drove home as Louis felt Harry shift beside him.

“One, two-”

In place of three, Louis let out his fiercest war cry. Louis surged forward his bayonet and he felt the others follow behind him; their screams harmonizing with his own. Some of them were shouts of fear, others of anger and pain. They melted together to create one terrible war song. A wave of bullets rained down upon them. Before he has even taken two steps, Louis saw two of the men crumple in front of him. He made sure not to step on their bodies as he pushed forward. The group climbed the slight hill that led to the German trenches. Barbed wire caught on their sleeves and stray bits of metal cut through their woolen uniforms. The first wave of men hit the edge of the parapet. They fell in, one by one, their rifles and bayonets ready in hand.

Louis was less than a foot away when a sharp pain suddenly exploded in his left arm. A guttural cry ripped from Louis’ throat as he swung himself over the edge of the parapet. He landed face to face with a German soldier. Before he could even think, Louis thrust his bayonet straight through the German’s chest. The German stumbled backward as Louis withdrew the bayonet and fell where he stood. Waves of pain radiated from his arm as Louis turned away, but it was nothing compared to the horror around him.

It was terrible, in every sense of the word. Englishmen dove into the trench one by one to find a German ready for each of them. At this point their rifles were useless. By the time you raised your rifle, there was already a knife in your gut. Some of the officers swung their sabers around in a desperate attempt to fend off their assailants. They were flimsy little things, made of soft, shiny metals that were never meant for real battle. The officers lasted only a few moments before a hardened bayonet found it’s way into their sides. Apparently, their life was as symbolic as their swords.

A German had Harry pinned on his back against the muddy floor of the trenches. Both of their weapons lay discarded several feet away. Harry struggled against the man, but he was helplessly outweighed by the massive German. Before Louis could think, he began to run. But Harry and the German were on the other end of the parapet. The time seemed to pass in slow motion as Louis ran, helpless to stop the scene unfolding in front of him. Then the German wrapped his hand around Harry’s throat and everything seemed to go into slow motion. Harry’s arm strained, reached for the bayonet that had fallen from his rifle. Louis willed his feet to move faster, to cover more ground, but he was too far. Louis’ heart was about to give out. He was going to see Harry die with his own eyes.

Then, in a sudden burst of strength, Harry’s fingers gripped the handle of the knife and swiftly stuck it in the German’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound, drenching Harry in a coat of red. For a moment, the German’s grip didn’t ease, he just stayed there looking at Harry with a knife in his neck. Finally, Louis reached the scene. Louis grabbed the dead man by the scruff of his collar and dragged him off Harry. The younger man was still on his back, his body tense and covered in blood.

Louis grabbed Harry by his shoulders and hoisted him into a sitting position. Harry slumped against the side of the trench, his chest moving at an erratic pace. His hair was wet, knotted mess and his shaking hands were covered in blood. German blood.

“We made it?”

“Yeah, love,” Louis breathed, “We made it.”

~

[Camp Clipstone, Fall 1914]

The training was simple. Well, it seemed simple to Louis. Years of plowing the fields had left him rather fit, if he did say so himself. Running five kilometers didn’t even get him winded. Zayn and Liam on the other hand… well, let’s just say they were another matter. Liam, despite being in impeccable health, was obviously not used to the rugged lifestyle of the training camp. His perfectly placed clothes, his impeccable manners, even his speech, spoke to eliteness of his upbringing. The lumpy cots and half-assed meals were not sitting well with him, and it was beginning to show. The lad never complained, though, which was more than Louis expected from a spoilt, rich boy. His respect for Liam only seemed to be growing.

Zayn also showed signs of a prestigious pedigree, but unlike Liam, he was not as easy to read. Zayn rarely spoke about himself, in fact, he hardly spoke at all. His only signs of discomfort were an occasional pinched nose and haughty huff. He was always watching, though, always watching and listening. And his stream of knowledge never seemed to fail him; it had even saved Louis a time or two.

For instance, a few days after Louis arrived, one of his officers had noticed his skills in marksmanship. He had pulled Louis aside and ordered him into special sniper training. Needless to say, Louis said yes. As Louis’ skills continued to shine, he was even offered a promotion. He could enter the army, not as a lowly private, but as a second lieutenant. Louis had been ecstatic. That is, until he told Liam and Zayn.

“No,” Zayn had said sternly, “Whatever you do, do not let them promote you.”

At first, Louis had been pissed, but as Zayn explained his reasoning, Louis was thankful that he did. Second lieutenants, Zayn explained, has the highest mortality rate of any other rank in the military. They commanded anywhere from thirty to eighty men. Commanders often chose charismatic and fearless soldiers for the position because they inspired the troops to fight. They also were in charge of leading their men into battle, and therefore, were usually among the first casualties.

“Take it as a compliment,” said Zayn, “But nothing more.”

Louis left the conversation both shaken and surprised. Shaken, because his commander had basically offered him a death sentence in the form of a gift; and surprised because, how in the world had Zayn known that? Did he have a military background? No, how much experience with the military could someone have at the age of seventeen? Whatever it was, Louis was grateful for it.Louis’ supervisor didn’t seem surprised when Louis rejected the offer. He merely sent him back to his training and said nothing more about the matter. Later, Louis had seen him pulling aside another trainee; no doubt trying to ensnare another unsuspecting victim with a fancier uniform. Still, over the past few days, Louis’ skill with his rifle had improved immeasurably. He has always been a good shot, but now Louis could hit a coin through its center from almost fifty feet away. He and his group trained early every morning and late at night.

This morning had been no exception. Louis was walking back to his tented with his rifle slung over his back. Louis rolled his neck, his muscles was aching with stiffness and tension. The training was grueling, not just in a physical sense. Not only did they have to be stone still for hours on end, but the mental aspect of sniping was something Louis hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just killing people; there were tactics behind everything. Usually, that meant picking off the highest ranking officers first, thereby leaving the lower ranking troops in chaos. However, you also had to weigh that against other lower-rank soldiers who posed an immediate threat, like those on a machine gun. Louis wasn’t completely comfortable comparing lives. Deciding who lived and who died… Louis didn’t like to play god.

As Louis approached the top of the hill he noticed something by the front gates. A large group of people was gathered outside the entrance to the camp, a steady stream of them still coming off the train. Most of them were still wearing civilian clothes with packed bags slung over their shoulder. With a tired laugh, Louis jogged back to his tent.

Louis threw open the tent flap, letting the bright morning sunlight stream in. Liam was drinking his usual morning tea and thumbing through a book, while Zayn was still asleep on his cot; his hair arranged in an artful (yet messy) bedhead. The boy had never quite taken to the early morning routine.

“Boys!” Louis cried as he set his rifle down, “We’ve got a fresh load coming in!”

“More recruits already?” Liam asked, looking up from his morning cuppa, “How peculiar. We usually get them every other week.”

“Recruitment offices are overflowing.” Zayn mumbled, apparently not asleep, but with his face still securely stuffed in a pillow, “They’ve got to put them somewhere.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, “Where’d you hear that?”

Zayn didn’t respond, merely opting to grunt in lieu of an answer.

“Well,” Liam said with a smile as he set down his book, “Let’s go out and greet them. Shall we?”

Zayn elicited an irritable groan from his cot, voicing his complaint.

“Fine,” Louis said, grabbing a rag to wipe his brow, “Just don’t do anything embarrassing, Liam.”

Liam looked up at him, perfectly perplexed, “How do you mean?”

“I mean don’t offer to take their coat and invite them to a game of chess,” Louis drawled. The sad thing was, that had actually happened before and Louis wasn’t about to go through that humiliation again. “And if you could wake Sleeping Beauty over there that would be much appreciated.”

Louis strode out of their tent, leaving Liam looking slightly affronted. He made his way over to Zayn’s cot all while mumbling under his breath, “It’s called being polite.”

Louis exited the tent to find the other trainees making their way to the front gates. With a grin, Louis joined the wave of people. They all filtered down to the field that lay just beyond the gates. The crowd was buzzing with excitement as they anxiously waited for the recruits to filter in. Louis glanced around, taking in the energy of the crowd. Then, above the chatter of the trainees, the gates began to open with a loud screech. A cheer erupted from the crowd as the new recruits stepped through the gates.

The group of boys and men bashfully walked through the gates, just as Louis had done not so long ago. Trainees ran up to new recruits and embraced them, talked to them, gave them food and friendship. Louis could feel the camaraderie flow through the crowd. Pride and confidence were blossoming in front of his eyes. It was a sight Louis felt proud to witness.

“Uff!” Louis was suddenly thrown to the ground as another body collided with his own. Louis pushed himself up on his elbows, about ready to give this careless twat a piece of his mind, but what he saw made him stop. It was a recruit. His haversack was upturned and its contents scattered around their feet. Louis was about to say something sarcastic, because that’s about the only thing that came out of his mouth, but when he looked up the words died in his mouth.

In front of him, also knocked flat on his arse, was an angel. A curly haired, green-eyed angel. His cheeks were tinted pink and his chocolate curls stuck slightly to his face. Rosen lips were parted slightly as he breathed; lips that Louis’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on. But it was his eyes that stole his gaze. They were shining and so full of life, they took Louis’ breath away. Louis felt his cheeks heat when he realized he was staring. But what set them on fire was the realization that the boy was staring back.

Glancing at the out turned haversack, the boy gave him a weak smile, “Oops.”

Louis raised a teasing eyebrow and glanced at the mess around them before giving the recruit a coy smile. The boy’s face broke into a grin, revealing stunning dimples that Louis may or may not have wanted to run his lips over. A gentle chuckle floated between them. They must have looked loonies, sitting there in the middle of a crowd with the haversack’s contents scattered around them, grinning madly at each other.

“Hi.” Louis finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“Hi yourself,” said the boy, and Louis felt his heart start to race as he stood himself up. The boy continued to sit on the ground, looking up at Louis like a big puppy. Louis tried his hardest not to be endeared. He failed.

Louis offered him a hand, “I guess I should apologize for that.”

“No, not at all,” the boy gripped it and his hand practically engulfed Louis’s with his own as he stood up. Louis was rather surprised to find that the boy was a good head taller than him.  The boy’s cheeks were flushed slightly giving them a lovely pink tint. Louis couldn’t help but stare. He was just so beautiful.

“I’m Louis.”

“I’m — ”

“HARRY!” The boy lurched forward as a little Irish person was suddenly hanging off the boy’s - (Harry’s, Louis corrected himself with a smile) back. He had darker hair with clear blue eyes and a large toothy grin. Also, Louis didn't have much room to label him as little, as he probably stood about a few centimeters above Louis.

“Where’d ya run off to mate?” He shouted into Harry’s ear, still clinging to his back.

“Niall, get off me.” Harry half-whispered to his friend while he simultaneously tried to shrug him off his back.

“Haha!” Niall cackled, “You’ll have to do better than that if — oh…” Niall’s voice trailed off as his gaze settled on Louis. He cast a suspicious glance from Louis to Harry’s pink cheeks. With a knowing look in his eyes, Niall slid off Harry’s back only to poke him in the ribs. “I see. I hope I wasn’t — ah — interrupting anything.” He prodded, still grinning like a madman.

“No!” Harry practically shouted, looking back at Louis with a mortified expression. Louis was doing his best to keep a straight face while watching the whole interaction. He was very much enjoying the frazzled Harry in front of him. His cheeks grew darker the more flustered he got, and the subtlest sheen of perspiration shown on Harry’s forehead. Not so much that it would be off-putting, but just enough so that Louis would be able to taste him as he ran his tongue over Harry’s —

“Louis,” Harry’s voice ripped him from his thoughts. His surprisingly filthy thoughts. Dear God, Louis wasn’t this kind of person, but apparently he made an exception for Harry. If all men outside of Doncaster were like this… Lord help Louis’ soul.

“This is Niall.” Harry continued, seemingly unaware of Louis best attempts at keeping his lust in control.

The Irishman stuck out his hand, his perpetual grin still in place, “Niall Horan, Mullingar.”

“Louis Tomlinson, Doncaster,” he responded, taking Niall’s hand.

“And I’m guessing you’ve already met Harry?”

“Not formally,” Harry interjected with a bashful smile. Harry walked — no, Harry didn’t walk, he glided — over to Louis. “Harry Styles, White Chapel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Louis made a conscience effort not to drool. A pleasure indeed.

“Louis!”

Turning, Louis could see Liam and Zayn making their way towards him. Liam smile was radiating sunshine while Zayn, now fully awake, had returned to his usual air of effortless perfection. Louis, reluctantly, released Harry’s hand to greet his mates.

“Made some new friends, have we?” Liam asked, peeking over to Harry and Niall.

Louis nodded, trying his best not to grin like a lovesick lunatic,“Niall, Harry, these are my tent mates, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik. Liam, Zayn, these dashing blokes are Niall Horan and Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you, boys. Liam Payne, Bradford.” Liam said, presenting a perfect smile and a firm hand, “I hope Lou didn’t scare you off too much.”

Louis let out an indignant squeak, “Hey! I am a very lovely person I’ll have you know!”

“If you do say so yourself,” Zayn added with a mischievous smile.

“And I do! Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?” Fine, so Louis was a shameless flirt, he could admit that. But it was all worth Harry smiled again, once more revealing those perfectly shaped dimples. God, he looked like a poem waiting to happen.

But Louis was rudely interrupted from his flirting process when Zayn slapped his arse, eliciting a surprised yelp. Harry and Niall burst into spontaneous laughter while Liam chuckled, as he was much more accustomed to the scene.

“I’ll get you for that one, Malik!” Before Louis can so much as move, Zayn has dashed away from Louis and behind Liam. Liam’s massive build hid most of Zayn’s body, save for a sly grin that peaked out from the side. Liam was smiling fondly down at Zayn, who was still hidden behind him like a child. Louis would have found it quite adorable if Zayn hadn’t still held a taunting look in his eyes. And letting Zayn win in front of Harry was something Louis just could not allow.

Leaning an arm on Niall’s shoulder, Louis nodded towards Liam and Zayn, “Aren’t they just the cutest?”

Liam and Zayn suddenly froze, both of their eyes wide with surprise. Zayn took a tentative step from behind Liam’s protection, the tips of his ears noticeably pink. With one swift motion, Louis leaped forwards and twisted Zayn’s nipple. Zayn let out a surprised cry as Louis jumped back, just out of his reach, “Gotcha!” he cackled.

Zayn huffed an indignant breath before he returned to Liam’s side. Liam offered him a small smile, while Harry and Niall struggled to breath through their laughter. Louis sauntered over to them, and if his hips swung a little more than usual, nobody could prove it. “Have you found a place to stay yet boys?”

“No, we were just looking for one,” Harry began. Slowly a grin spread across his face, “But we got distracted.”

Louis couldn’t help but smile back, “Well, our tent is always open.”

“You got room for both of us?” Niall asked in surprise.

Louis threw a hopeful look to Liam this time. Liam thought for a moment before he responded, “Yes. It might be a tad bit cramped, but you’re willing to live with that, you’re welcome to come.”

“So,” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction, “What do you say?

Harry bit his lip, barely containing a smile, “I say… Lead the way Louis Tomlinson.”

~

“Having trouble keeping up, Harry?” Louis taunted the younger boy as they completed their third lap around the camp. They had been keeping a good pace the entire time and Louis’ lungs were beginning to hurt with exertion.

Harry pushed sweaty curls off his forehead. His cheeks were flushed pink and his neck glistened with perspiration, “You wish.” Gathering his strength, Harry began to push past Louis. It had only been about two weeks since Harry had arrived at Clipstone, and yet, he looked like a completely different person. The first hints of well-developed muscle were beginning to show along with a newfound confidence that made him popular around the other trainees. But despite his outward bravado, when Harry returned to their tent he was still the hopelessly adorable goof that Louis met that first day. Louis was completely smitten, he hadn’t even stood a chance.

The pair slowed as the reached the tent area, both of them breathing hard now, “I won,” said Harry weakly.

“I beg to differ, Young Styles,” Louis wheezed, “I’m giving myself a foot long bonus, considering how obscenely long your legs are.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Harry chided from his side.

Louis shrugged, “Life sucks and then you die.”

Harry let out one of his laughs that sounded more like a squawk. It always made Louis laugh because every time it happened, Harry jumped as if he surprised himself.

They made their way back to their tent, catching their breath along the way. As Louis pulled back the tent flap, he was immediately greeted with a hard look from Liam, “No,” he said sternly, “You two are not allowed in this tent until you are clean. I will not have our shared living space smelling like sweat.”

“Seriously?” Harry said with a roll of the eyes.

“Yes! Now get on with ya!”

“Yes, mother,” Louis said with a giggle as Liam shooed them out of the tent.

“Louis! Before you go,” Niall called from his cot, “There’s a letter here for you.”

Niall held out a parcel tied with string. Louis took it with a curious glance before he walked out of the tent, Harry following from close behind. As Louis undid the string, the heart jumped in his chest. There was a letter addressed to him and written in Lottie’s flowery script.

_Dear Louis,_

_I don’t know if you will get this, I asked the man at the office and this is the address he gave me. I will have you know that Mum was right furious when she found you missing in the morning. She went stomping down to the recruitment looking for you. She was screaming and making a gigantic fuss the entire way. But you had already left by the time she got there. Lou, she was so upset. She said we were forbidden from writing to you but, as you know, I was never too keen on rules anyways. Fizzy and the twins send their love. Just promise me you’ll be safe Louis. I miss you so much and I will wait patiently for your return._

_Yours,_

_Lottie_

Louis noticed Harry take a quick glance at the letter, but he quickly looked away, obviously embarrassed that he’d peeked. He was so hopelessly endearing, Louis almost couldn’t stand it.

“It’s from my sister, Lottie,” Louis offered with a smile, relishing the way Harry’s face lit up with that tiny bit of information. “Just in case you were wondering.”

Harry let out a self-conscious chuckle before he continued, “Lottie? What a beautiful name, very unique too.”

Louis laughed, “It’s short for Charlotte. We all have nicknames in our house.”

“Oh?” Harry drawled, his dimpled deepening.

“No.”

“Oh c’mon Louis! Tell me!”

“No! It’s embarrassing.”

“How bad could it be?” Louis glanced at him from the side. Harry returned his gaze expectantly, “You have to tell me. I’m dying to know!”

“Alright! I give in. But you can't tell anyone.” Harry nodded eagerly, his brown curls springing up and down. Even though Louis raised himself onto his toes, Harry still had to bend down a considerable amount for Louis to reach his ear.

The moment the word left Louis’ lips, Harry burst out laughing, “Boobear?” He wheezed.

“Hey!” Louis chided, lightly smacking him on the shoulder, “You said you wouldn't laugh!” 

“I don't recall saying that.”

“It was implied, you wanker!”

Another laugh rippled through Harry’s body and it was all Louis could do to keep from laughing too.

Suddenly, somebody’s elbow collided with Louis’ side sending him stumbling backward. A stray pile of rocks knocking into his boots, sending him arse first onto the ground. Harry was by his side in seconds, immediately babbling questions and apologies to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Louis winced as he rubbed the tender spot where the elbow had struck on his side.Then, above Harry’s fussing, Louis heard a slight snicker as a boy with dark brown passed him by. Several other trainees followed behind him, obviously the boy’s underlings. Then the boy had the nerve to turn back and sneer at Louis, “Watch where you’re going, mate.”

“I don’t recall ever being your mate.” Louis spat. Harry’s hand tightened ever so slightly on Louis’ arm.

The boy stopped and turned around, obviously not having expected resistance. The group sauntered over to where Louis was still lying on the group. Harry’s hand clasped tightly in his own. “This one’s got a mouth, don’t he boys?” the leader said, “What if we shut it for him?”

“Stop it,” Harry bit out, his mouth set in a firm line while Louis noted the slight shaking of his hand.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, kicking a bit of dirt at Harry’s face.

“Leave him alone.”

“Ah, you must be the one that takes it up the arse.” the boy’s voice dripped with loathing as he approached Harry. He grabbed Harry’s face in one motion, bringing him closer to his face. “I always wondered what they would look like. Well, now I know. You look just like the good for nothing cock sucker you are.”

Louis hadn’t even felt his hand leave his side before his fist connected with the boy’s face. The boy stumbled backwards into his crowd while Louis cradled his aching fist. When Louis looked up, he felt his stomach drop. The boy was furious. Lips were drawn back into a feral snarl and a bright red mark was beginning to spread across his face.

Suddenly, a booming voice cut through the commotion, “We ‘ave a problem lads?”

Louis and Nick momentarily stopped their struggle to look up at the figure above them.

“The fuck are you?”

“A friend.” Then he punched him square in the nose. Nick rolled off Louis, clutching his nose as he cried down in pain. Niall grabbed Louis’ arm as he hauled him to his feet. Niall dusted off his hand before he returned his attention to the group of trainees, “You might wanna teach yer mate some fucking manners, lads.”

Nick scrambled to his feet, blood dripping from his nose, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Ha! You can try,” Niall shouted, slinging an arm over Louis’ shoulder, “You know who this is? This is Louis fucking Tomlinson, this is. You best be lucky he isn’t in a piss mood or you’d have a bullet straight between your eyes.”

One of the boy’s friends placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to hold him back. The boy shrugged the hand off, his shoulders poised for another fight. Nick’s scowl deepened, “Bullshit. A puff like him couldn’t shoot if his life depended on in.”

“You think you can outshoot him?” Niall goaded, “Dream on.”

“Niall…” Louis warned. At the same time, one boy in the other group whispered, “Nick!” grabbing his friend by his sleeve in an attempt to hold him back. But it was too late.

“Why don’t we see for ourselves?” Nick growled taking a step towards them, “How about tomorrow you and I have a little contest, yeah?”

Louis rolled his eyes at Nick, “I don’t have anything to prove to you of all peop-”

“You’re on,” Niall cut in, grabbing Nick’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Nick returned the shake before promptly turning back to his crowd.

“Next time, let me pick my own fights, will ya?” Louis grumbled as the boy and his crowd walked away. Niall merely cackled and gave him a good-natured slap on the back.

When Louis turned around, he saw Harry leaning against the wall, eyes still wide with surprise. Louis ran to his side, hands immediately coming to his face, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry wheezed, “What about you?”

Louis let out a gentle scoff, “Please, like that twat could possibly have any affect on me.”

A grin tugged on Harry’s cheek as he placed his hands on his hips. “Someone’s confident.” he taunted.

Louis hitched a challenging brow, “Well, one of us has to be.” Harry scoffed, shaking an amused head, “Now come on. Let’s head back to camp.”

A small grin tugged at Harry’s lips, revealing the beginnings of a dimple. They walked towards their tent in a comfortable silence. Harry’s presence was like a steady fire, warming Louis by just existing. The sun began to set on the day, casting a golden-orange glow across the training camp. The white tents sat like blank canvases, waiting to be bathed the colours of the setting sun. Harry’s eyes, too, glowed against the dimness of the oncoming night. Louis couldn’t help staring. He had never known beauty could exist so tangibly, yet here it stood right in front of him. Harry embodied that so perfectly that it was almost painful. But it wasn’t your typical kind of beauty. He was ever evolving; constantly growing into something more exquisite than the last.

Louis must have been really lost in his thoughts because when he came to, they had stopped walking, the sky was darkening, and Harry’s eyes were boring into his very soul. Suddenly, Louis’ lungs were devoid of any air they possessed just moments before. 

“Hey,” Louis said, opting for a casual tone. Instead, it came out gravelly and rough. Well…  So much for casual.

“Hi,” Harry started, blinking his eyes a few times, seeming to come out of his trance, “I’m sorry. Your eyes… They were just…” Harry’s curls blew in the gentle breeze, framing his lovely angular face. His gaze was intense, green eyes burning in the night. Louis almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“So beautiful,” Harry whispered as he brushed Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. Louis savoured the spark that he felt when Harry’s fingertips slid over his skin. “They look like the ocean at night.”

“Look who’s talking,” Louis breathed, taking a step closer, “The boy who looks like he stepped out of a fairytale.”

There was a hint of amusement in Harry’s voice as his fingers brushed the tops of Louis’ hands, “Never took you for a poet.”

“I’m not,” Louis chuckled, turning his gaze towards the setting sun, “Funny how that works, innit?”

In that instant, Louis could feel the tone of the conversation shift. Harry bit into his bottom lip, turning it a darker shade of pink. His pupils were blown and the green of his irises popped against the darkening sky.

Harry’s words came out slow and careful, “How what works?”

Louis voice was raspy as he understood the gravity of what he just said, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Harry asked, a little pain creeping into his voice. Louis felt his heart swell and his resolve began to weaken.

“Well, maybe not… nothing.” He admitted, making an effort not to look in Harry’s eyes.

Despite his best attempts, Louis couldn't help but notice the grin tugged on Harry’s lips, “So, something?”

“Something,” Louis agreed. Gathering his courage in a short breath of air, Louis continued, “Or everything.”

Harry stared at him, his mouth hung open just a little bit as his eyes frantically searched Louis’. Louis was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded being the centre of Harry’s attention. By now, only a sliver of setting sun left any light for them to see. The world was tinted in a deep blue hue, like it was under the ocean. And from the pressure on Louis chest, they very well may have been.

“We should probably head back.” Louis said, his voice wobbling slightly, “It’s gonna be completely dark soon.”

Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving Louis’, “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

~

“G’morning princess!”

Louis flung his pillow in Niall’s direction before pulling the covers over his head. Niall, having easily dodged the pillow, circled around to nudge Louis with his foot. Louis merely slapped his boot away and turned onto his stomach.

“Let’s go, ye brat!” Niall shouted, ripping the blanket off Louis’ sleeping body, “You have a shoot-off in twenty minutes.”

“And whose fault it that?” Louis grumbled from his cot.

“Louis, you need to go,” Liam said matter-of-factly from the other side of the tent, “There’s already a massive crowd gathered.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately, no. Zayn and Harry are already there holding our seats.”

Despite his many protests, Liam and Niall (mostly Niall) dragged Louis from his bed, threw him into his training slacks, and marched him out to an open field in front of the camp. Just as Liam had said, a gigantic crowd had gathered around a small platform. Beside it, three boxes were set up, each with a bottle resting on their top and their respective distances labeled on their side. Nick was already there, his fingers dancing around his rifle and a confident smirk resting on his lips.

“What have you gotten me into Niall?” he hissed into his friend’s ear.

“You can thank me later.” Niall said with a grin, “Now, I have to get going, bu good luck mate. Not that ya need it.”

Before Louis could ask where he was going, Niall jumped onto the podium and quieted the crowd. As the chatter died away, Niall turned to the crowd with a large grin and his arms spread wide, “Ladies and arsewipes, welcome! We are gathered here today, for the privilege to see these two men compete for who has the bigger cock!” A hearty chuckle rippled through the audience before Niall continued, “Now, the rules are as follows: there are three bottles placed at one hundred, two hundred, and three hundred yards. Whoever can hit all three of these bottles is obviously the better shot and therefore is more a man than any of ye!" 

The crowd cheered as Niall stepped down from the podium.  Louis felt a flash of admiration as Niall was engulfed by his fellow trainees, receiving appreciative slaps and compliments as he descended. In the few weeks that Niall had been here, he had quickly risen to be one of the most liked people in all of Clipstone. Louis, on the other hand, was getting himself into shooting competitions. Really… He still couldn’t believe they were friends.

“Ready for this, Tomlinson?” Nick asked, smirk firmly planted on his face. He cocked his rifle just like the pretentious bastard Louis thought he was.

“Why not?” Louis placed a finger on his mouth, “Oh and by the way, who are you again?”

Louis smirked as Nick ground his teeth, “Nick Grimshaw.” he growled.

“Right, I’d nearly forgotten. Silly me. And I’d introduce myself but it seems you know me well enough already.”

Nick glared in lieu of a response and brought the scope to his eye in one jerky movement. The field began to quiet down as Nick took his aim. The silence lasted for a heavy five seconds before the bullet came racing from Nick’s rifle. The bottle shattered where it stood atop the log, sending bright green glass across the ground. The first wave of cheers rose from the crowd as Nick gave a modest wave from his shooting place. Louis rolled his eyes. Honestly, what was this? A beauty pageant?

Niall quickly quieted the chatter from the front row, “Nice shot Nick. Though I’d reckon yer grandmum could’ve made that shot. Louis, your turn and don’t disappoint us.”

Louis ignored the snickers coming from Nick’s group and Nick’s own satisfied smirk. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis could see Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall watching him intently. Harry (beautiful, glorious Harry) was biting his lip as his windblown curls perfectly framed his angular face. As beautiful a sight it was, Louis forced himself to look away. Unfortunately, Louis didn’t have the luxury of drinking in Harry’s perfect face at the moment.

Bring the sight to his eye, Louis through the rifle’s scope. The shot was relatively easy as Louis didn’t have any trouble lining the bottle’s slender neck in the center of the scope. With a touch of his finger, the bottle broke into a dozen pieces. Another round of applause rippled through the crowd, although it was notably quieter than Nick’s, save for Zayn’s ear piercing whistle.

The trainees calmed down once more as Nick took aim for his second shot. Louis rolled his eyes as Nick made a dramatic display of adjusting and readjusting his scope. And people called Louis a drama queen. When Nick finally fired, Louis was right behind him. Just moments after Nick’s bullet had barely left his rifle, a crack ripped from Louis’ rifle. A burst of mummers and quiet applause came from the audience.

Nick flashed him a dirty gesture and muttered, “Fucker.” under his breath.

Louis shrugged, his eyes still firmly planted on the last bottle, “I prefer to be.”

A reluctant laugh slipped from Nick’s mouth. Louis even allowed himself a small smirk. For being an arsehole, at least Nick had a sense of humour. Before long, the crowd went silent one last time. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Nick raised his rifle. Nick took a deep breath and peered through his scope. The entire camp held their breath for three seconds of silence. Then he fired. The bottled stayed exactly where it was.

Various groans and shouts of disappointment rose from the trainees as Nick lowered his rifle. His face was scrunched into one of bitter resignation, but he nodded to Louis all the same. Louis nodded in return, bring his rifle up to his eye. Through the scope, Louis could see the bottle clearly. Taking one last breath, Louis pulled the trigger. The bottle shattered.

The field was quiet, the last shot still echoing through the air. In the silence, Niall jumped onto the stage, grasped Louis’ hand and raised it above his head, “Hey all ye cunts! Behold, the boy who never misses!”

A great cheer rose from the crowd and a chant began to float around the trainees:

Louis! Louis! Louis!

Suddenly, somebody grabbed Louis’ legs and hoisted him onto their shoulders. Louis let out a shout of surprise as he was suddenly thrust above the crowd and into the air. From somewhere in the mayhem, Louis felt someone slap his arse. When Louis looked down, he saw a blonde Irish head looking up at him.

Louis could barely hear himself as he shouted over the crowd, “Who would have thought that crude mouth would get you so many friends!” Louis screamed into Niall’s ear. Niall threw back his head as a laugh ripped through his tiny body. The rest of the crowd seemed to close around them as the unruly crowd pressed in closer. Among all the sweaty bodies, Louis caught sight of a brown curly head bobbing in the crowd. Louis slipped down from the person’s shoulders and pushed through the crowd towards Harry.

“You did it!” Harry cried, throwing his arms around Louis’ neck. Louis stumbled back, not ready for the sudden onslaught of weight. Harry’s curls tickled his cheek as Harry hugged him closer, his arms clasped around Louis’ shoulders. Breathing in Harry scent, Louis let his own arms wrap around Harry’s back. They stood there for a moment as the rest of the celebration continued around them, but Louis couldn’t have cared less about all of that. Harry’s arms were strong and warm, and Louis’ head fit just so in the crook of Harry’s neck; Louis couldn’t remember a time where he had felt so happy.

The celebration carried on until some officers came and broke up the riot. Louis and Nick were both written up for firing a weapon without supervision, but they received more praise than anything that day. The good mood carried throughout the day and even Nick seemed to be in good spirits, laughing and joking with everyone around. It occurred to Louis that Nick was actually a decent bloke when he wasn’t being a dick. By sundown, almost everyone had retired to the mess hall for supper. Louis and the boys were seated at their usual table, but this time a crowd of admirers flocked around them.

“Someone looks happy.” Zayn chuckled as Louis stuffed a roll in his mouth.

Louis kicked his feet up on the table, roll still in his mouth, “I’m feeling like the king of the world, Zayn.”

Harry beamed at him from across the table, “I’m happy for you, Lou. Always knew that you could do it.”

Louis grinned in turn, “Thank you, love.”

Harry waved and giggled (actually giggled) as he exited the mess hall. It was all Louis could do not to drool. Taking another bite of his dinner, Louis smiled to himself. This day couldn't get any better.

Liam eyed him suspiciously, “You two seem rather… close.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, only to be met with Liam’s earnest eyes. After a moment Louis turned his gaze back to the food on his plate, “Yeah, we get on well. Just like you and Zayn.”

Liam about choked on his water while Louis innocently poked as his dinner. Liam narrowed his eyes at Louis who opted to smile sweetly. Two could play at that game.

Not a minute had passed when Harry entered the mess hall, breathing hard. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were pink as if he had just run the entire way there. He didn’t say anything to the other boys as he crossed the tent; he just sat on his cot and stared at the other wall. Louis gave him a worried look, but Harry’s eyes were blank and unresponsive. Louis crossed the room in few light steps to sit at Harry’s side.

“What’s the matter, love?” Louis felt his face blanche just a bit as the endearment slipped out. Harry, however, didn’t seem to notice.

“We’re shipping out.”

Louis head snapped up. What? A bolt of fear flashed through Louis’ body. That was certainly not the answer he had been expecting. It was also not the response he had been expecting. All the boys could talk about was when they’d be able to get to France. He hadn’t expected to be scared. The other three boys looked up from what they were doing, obviously having heard that last part of the conversation. Slowly and out of sight, Harry slipped his hands into Louis’. Gripping Harry’s slender fingers, Louis looked into Harry’s eyes and swallowed thickly, “When?”

Harry kept his gaze straight, but responded with a shaking breath, “Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the first chapter! I tried to stay as true to this historical basis of this story as best I could. I hoped you liked it! I post sporadically, but I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. And here's a playlist I made for the story as well. You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDkplS6oiIInKZYFDATvzgDNDqj5shJYT


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